A search through the streets for dawn led me to the track
where the fox who's moon-lit was
To run from that is smart
I meet the split leaf or pine at every bend, and the uncurled
deadly calm, real & gory-eyed, too
like a place where the tear is
I fear the fox in a rut licks a cheap & rusty paw by the time
I turn to it
Fox and daylight spread like topsoil round the circling gate
or
inside a star In any two worlds (rut or sky) you like,
fox-hate at dawn looks grotesque as a crow's blur and so
there's isn't any
As clouds thinned and I saw more and more clearly, sun-glad
there just wasn't any
Star and rusty gate
4 comments:
I love this, Conrad. Supple and musical and saturated with strangeness—the good kind! From "the fox who's moon-lit" to "fox-hate at dawn looks grotesque as a crow's blur"—wonderful!
Thanks, Joseph!
Funny: I thought my little tribute to this scary pre-dawn critter entirely missed the mark.
I run before class from 6-7 am on our school track, adjacent to a sort of public pathway. And there he was, barely perceptible under a street light: and man, he made me nervous. I envied and feared its leanness. The paw-licking seemed to suggest he knew the true value of running.
Weird experience. Was I ever happy to see the sun.I knew I had to write this one down before it vanished
Hello Conrad:
I enjoyed the serenity of this 'thought-fox' moment....flowing freely in the predawn light.
I have to ask though, what is it about this little beast which makes it such a good topic for interesting poems?
Hello Irina
I'm convinced animals and humans speak a common language: there's no doubt in my mind the fox saw me as a contemptible rival & stopped just long enough to say it.
I've been a little hard on Ted Hughes lately but there was a guy who knew how to make that animal-human connection. I wish poets would stop writing about themselves and take a look at that neglected pine sometime, or the crow who darkens our minds.
Post a Comment